Moby Dick: or, the White Whale eBook

We then turned over the book together, and I endeavored
to explain to him the purpose of the printing, and
the meaning of the few pictures that were in it.
Thus I soon engaged his interest; and from that we
went to jabbering the best we could about the various
outer sights to be seen in this famous town.
Soon I proposed a social smoke; and, producing his
pouch and tomahawk, he quietly offered me a puff.
And then we sat exchanging puffs from that wild pipe
of his, and keeping it regularly passing between us.

If there yet lurked any ice of indifference towards
me in the Pagan’s breast, this pleasant, genial
smoke we had, soon thawed it out, and left us cronies.
He seemed to take to me quite as naturally and unbiddenly
as I to him; and when our smoke was over, he pressed
his forehead against mine, clasped me round the waist,
and said that henceforth we were married; meaning,
in his country’s phrase, that we were bosom
friends; he would gladly die for me, if need should
be. In a countryman, this sudden flame of friendship
would have seemed far too premature, a thing to be
much distrusted; but in this simple savage those old
rules would not apply.

After supper, and another social chat and smoke, we
went to our room together. He made me a present
of his embalmed head; took out his enormous tobacco
wallet, and groping under the tobacco, drew out some
thirty dollars in silver; then spreading them on the
table, and mechanically dividing them into two equal
portions, pushed one of them towards me, and said
it was mine. I was going to remonstrate; but
he silenced me by pouring them into my trowsers’
pockets. I let them stay. He then went
about his evening prayers, took out his idol, and
removed the paper firebrand. By certain signs
and symptoms, I thought he seemed anxious for me to
join him; but well knowing what was to follow, I deliberated
a moment whether, in case he invited me, I would comply
or otherwise.

I was a good Christian; born and bred in the bosom
of the infallible Presbyterian Church. How then
could I unite with this wild idolator in worshipping
his piece of wood? But what is worship? thought
I. Do you suppose now, Ishmael, that the magnanimous
God of heaven and earth—­pagans and all
included—­can possibly be jealous of an
insignificant bit of black wood? Impossible!
But what is worship?—­ to do the will of
God? that is worship. And what is the will of
God?—­ to do to my fellow man what I would
have my fellow man to do to me—­ that is
the will of God. Now, Queequeg is my fellow man.
And what do I wish that this Queequeg would do to me?
Why, unite with me in my particular Presbyterian
form of worship. Consequently, I must then unite
with him in his; ergo, I must turn idolator.
So I kindled the shavings; helped prop up the innocent
little idol; offered him burnt biscuit with Queequeg;
salamed before him twice or thrice; kissed his nose;
and that done, we undressed and went to bed, at peace
with our own consciences and all the world. But
we did not go to sleep without some little chat.